


Such Are Promises

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Series: Proof [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Family Feels, Foster Care, Found Family, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: Bruce suddenly has four children. That is, if social services says he can keep Dick and Jason, if the Drakes agree to let Tim stay, and if Talia signs over custody of Damian. Batman is easy compared to all of this.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Proof [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944145
Comments: 35
Kudos: 462





	Such Are Promises

Lawrence Plank was probably tired of Bruce today. Looking at his phone, he saw, as he was about to dial him again, that he’d already called him six times, and it was only one in the afternoon. Larry and his team have been working nonstop since Bruce called him at seven am on the morning he found the boys.

Now, he picked up Bruce’s call with a simple, “What now, boss?”

“The Drakes,” he began just as simply. Bruce had trouble not putting the adjective of ‘fucking’ in front of Drakes most of the time he talked about them, but he definitely thought it. “We can put a non-disclosure or something like it in there to assure them that I won’t drag their name through the mud. Tim seems to think that’s their primary concern.”

When Tim tugged on his shirt this morning as he’d hung up with Larry after explaining, ‘No, I’m not letting him go back there even for a few days,” and Tim had said, in a shaky voice, “I think they’re worried about the media,” Bruce had to press his eyes shut and deep breathe for twenty seconds before he could respond. These people didn’t care one bit about the kind, smart kid who had found the streets of Gotham more welcoming than his Bristol home. Np, they had quietly called his school and withdrawn him for ‘personal reasons’ and they’d fired the detective who was trying to find Tim after a week of failure, claiming, ‘he won’t be found if he doesn’t want to be found.’

Bruce believed that, but only because Tim was really smart. He’d figured that out after a week and a half. He saw patterns, Bruce could tell. Tim helped Damian with puzzles for two days straight, but was holding back, letting Damian do what he clearly already saw. When Tim sat down to talk to Bruce about his parents, he had insights that an average ten-year-old wouldn’t have, Bruce was sure, and it was Tim who came to Bruce and said, “I think Dick’s having a hard time here,” just this morning.

Dick was definitely having a hard time. He spent every waking minute checking on his brothers, but not really participating in what they were doing, even when he was trying to teach Damian and Tim gymnastics. Bruce was impressed with Dick, as he should be when a professional is in his midst. Dick may have spent two years on the Gotham streets, but he’d been raised a Flying Grayson and he hadn’t lost that. Bruce even caught Alfred stopping by the gym to watch Dick show Damian and Tim how to do a backflip. He’d had his camera out, thankfully, when Dick burst onto the mat alone and did a triple backflip, making Damian and Tim outright squeal with delight. Tim may be ten, but his giggle filled the room.

Dick had really smiled, then, a wide grin as he stuck his landing and did a dramatic bow. Damian had rushed him, urging Dick to do it again in a breathy plea. Dick laughed, and his laugh was contagious, and Bruce found himself laughing like he hadn’t in years.

It had been short-lived, though, as Dick’s face caught up with his whirring brain and a frown had followed. “That’s enough for today, Dami,” he’d said. “I’m going to go check on Jason.”

Dick left the gym abruptly, grabbing a towel on the way out, while Tim and Damian took turns trying the backflip Dick had shown them earlier. They were both strong and lithe and had taken to it with ease. Bruce stood in the doorway and tried to decide if he should stay with the younger boys or follow Dick. His phone rang again. He stepped out into the hallway and answered, “Hello?”

“Bruce, it’s Leslie.”

Bruce almost stumbled from the relief. It wasn’t his lawyer. It wasn’t the social worker. It wasn’t Lucius telling him he really ought to stop into the office today to sign some things and go over the report from R&D. It was someone who knew children. “Leslie.”

There was a pause. “Bruce, are you all right?”

He nodded before he remembered she couldn’t see that. “Yes, I’m fine. Just tired of talking to lawyers and social workers.”

“Bruce, it’s been six days. You’d probably better get used to talking to lawyers and social workers for a while. Have you spoken to the Drakes?”

Bruce had been taught better than to sigh on the phone, but he really couldn’t help it. “Yes. Once. I hung up on them.”

Leslie paused again. “Are you sure that was smart?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was smarter than cussing them out or throwing the phone. They’re horrible people.”

“Tim’s awfully sweet.”

“I think Tim has been more influenced by elementary school teachers and librarians than his parents, and those people are sweet. He got his parents’ intelligence and his teachers’ kindness,” Bruce mused.

“So, you hung up on the Drakes. Have you gotten any of the legal issues taken care of?”

Bruce headed back to the kitchen with a need for caffeine pulling him. “Yes. Damian’s custody papers are done, and I’ve reached out to his mother. I’m waiting on her signature. Social Services is coming in about an hour to do an emergency interview to place Jason and Dick. Once they sign their form after the interview, I’ll be their foster parent indefinitely. Tim’s probably the tough one here, but only if they make it a court battle. They’re not getting him back.”

Leslie chuckled. “I believe you. Good. Now. I want to come back and check on Jason tomorrow if that’s all right, and I thought I might do a regular physical for each boy while I’m there. Start to get a baseline for them. Do you have records for Tim?”

Bruce pulled a mug from the cupboard. “Yes. It’s been two years, though. They didn’t have him in for a check-up last year before he ran off.”

“Vaccinations?”

“Are you asking whether Tim has had them or if the others need them?’

“Well,” Leslie answered, and there was the sound a car door slamming in the background. “Unless you’ve found something for Dick, we’re going to go the same route we go when kids come to us with no records.”

“Haley’s didn’t have anything,” Bruce said, filling the electric kettle Alfred kept on the counter with water. “They said Dick would’ve had all of the needed checkups and vaccinations, but they didn’t have records.”

“How is he?”

The question made Bruce splash some water out of the kettle as he set it on the counter, and he took a deep, centering breath.

“Bruce?”

“Hyper-vigilant, I think.”

Leslie was silent.

“I can’t get him to stop checking back and forth between Jason, who won’t leave his bedroom except for meals and sometimes not even then, and the younger boys, who are treating the manor like a playground, so sometimes he can’t find them and panics. I’ve had to talk him through a full panic attack twice already.”

“He and Jason could probably use therapy,” she said, and for some reason, that was it. 

Bruce’s emotions, which had been sharp and pointed all morning, just simply shut off, just as he flipped the switch on the kettle, pulled the black tea from the shelf, and leaned back against the counter. “Did you need anything else today? You can come tomorrow,” he said, and his voice probably sounded as flat as it felt.

“Bruce,” she said. “I know this is a lot.”

“Leslie,” he said, cutting her off, “I need to go check on Jason. He hasn’t been out of his room today. Come by tomorrow at your convenience. We’ll all be here.”

“All right,” she replied in a measured tone. “I’ll call before I come.”

They hung up, and Bruce put the phone in his pocket. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carafe of orange juice and set it on the counter. It turned out that Jason thought fresh orange juice was nectar of the gods, along with Alfred’s sourdough toast. Bruce pulled out the cutting board and the bread and set about making a plate of toast to take to him. If he’d take it. Half the time the boy crossed his arms and told Bruce to fuck off. It was hit and miss.

The kettle beeped and Bruce dropped the butter knife. He put his hands on the counter and pressed. He forced himself through five deep breaths. When he lifted his head, he picked up the knife and finished cutting the bread. Therapy. Jason clearly needed it, between his life on the streets, the sudden change to the manor that was clearly messing with him, and whatever home life he’d had before his mother died.

Dick watched his parents die in front of him. Like Bruce. Oh, fuck. Like him. and now Bruce was Batman after suffering years of his own psychiatric battles without therapy. Dick needed therapy so he didn’t end up like Bruce, a vigilante. Not that Bruce was just a vigilante now. He was a father. Even if he didn’t take the other boys in, he was Damian’s father. Who knows what Talia and the League had done to him? Damian probably needed therapy, too.

Bruce’s knees buckled and he slid to the kitchen floor.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred said, and came around the corner. “Dear Lord, are you all right?” he asked, and crouched down in front of Bruce.

Bruce swallowed. “I’m Damian’s father.”

Alfred cocked his head. “Yes. You are. I believe the test was quite conclusive.”

“Alfred, I’m thirty-one and I’ve never been around children. I now have four traumatized kids living here, who probably all need therapy. What the hell am I doing?”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, and he sat down next to Bruce and leaned so that their shoulders were touching. “What you’re doing is the right thing. These boys, each of them, need a home. We have a home. These boys need safety. We have that, too. Everything else is negotiable. We will try to give them a place to grow if they stay. That’s all either of us can do, and whatever you’re doing here, you’re not doing it alone. I promise you that.”

Bruce leaned his head on Alfred’s shoulder. “What if they don’t want to stay?” he asked.

Alfred chuckled. “I think they’re very much a package deal, and I think that Master Damian and Master Timothy are quite taken with you. I think they already trust you, and I think the other boys will follow. I don’t think any of them are going anywhere, unless you decide it’s not right for you.”

“Damian’s my son. I can’t send him away. I won’t.” The thought of Talia trying to wrestle Damian away from him send his blood pulsing rapidly, like it always did.

“Well, sir. There you have it, then.”

They sat on the floor until Bruce’s breath settled, and he stood and offered Alfred a hand up.

“Were you making toast?” Alfred asked, pointing to the bread Bruce had sliced.

“And tea. I need some caffeine and I thought Jason might like some more toast.”

“He does seem to inhale it when it’s offered,” Alfred said, and he handed Bruce a tea bag. “Has he left his room today?”

“No,” Bruce said. “Damian sat with him at breakfast today and told me that Jason told him he was ‘saving his strength.’”

Alfred hummed and put the bread in the toaster. “What are the other boys up to?”

“Tim and Damian are in the gym. Dick was showing them how to do a backflip, bit he went to sit with Jason a few minutes ago.”

“Has Master Jason been to the library yet?”

“No. He has the other boys bring him books, which he promptly devours in one afternoon, it seems.”

“Well, why don’t you take him a book when you take him this toast? One of your favorites, perhaps?”

He took Alfred’s advice and stopped at the library on his way to Jason’s room. “This is one you might not have read,” He said as he handed Jason the book. “It’s about mice that were products of an intelligence-enhancing experiment. I’ve read it about ten times,” he added with a smile.

Jason took the book and brushed long hair out of his eyes. He read the back cover and nodded. “Thanks,” he said. He stared at the bedcovers.

“Did Dick head back to the gym?” Bruce asked as he set the toast down on the nightstand.

Jason nodded.

There was an awkward silence, and Bruce never really knew how to handle awkward silences with adults, much less with children. He shifted on his feet. “The social worker will be here soon. I thought maybe you could have this toast and then get dressed. I’m going to send Dick and the others up to get dressed, too, okay?”

Jason still stared at the bed. “Okay, sure.” He was clenching the blanket.

“Jason,” Bruce said, and something in his voice made the boy look up. “This is going to work out.”

Jason laughed, a bitter sound that really shouldn’t be coming from a thirteen-year-old. “Sure, okay.”

Bruce shook his head and turned. There was nothing more he could say, so he left to get ready for the visit.

Bruce knew the manor was impressive from a purely aesthetic perspective. It was pretty, old, carefully kept up, and was possibly overwhelming to some people. The social worker who knocked on the door and followed Alfred into the front sitting room did not seem overwhelmed. He did not seem impressed. He focused on Bruce, not the room, and had a piercing gaze and challenging handshake. His tightly curled black hair had grey brushed through it, and his powder grey suit seemed well worn, but complimented his dark skin perfectly. He was not the stereotypical rumpled social worker. He walked with a purpose and took the chair Alfred offered him with a curt ‘thank-you.’

“Mr. Wayne, I’m Jonathon Givens, and I appreciate you having me out to talk to you. I have files on two boys, Richard Grayson and Jason Todd.”

“Yes,” Bruce replied. He tried not to fidget, but his knee betrayed him and bounced a little.

“I understand you have two other boys who are not in the system but are also living here at the moment?”

“Yes. One is my biological son and one is a neighbor of mine. I’m hoping to gain custody of both through the legal system.”

Mr. Givens raised an eyebrow. “Four children at once seems like a lot for anyone.”

Bruce smiled, and nodded. “I’ve had the same thought the last couple of days.”

There was an awkward pause, like Mr. Givens was waiting for Bruce to explain, but he didn’t. He would wait on each question and answer them, but Bruce had enough experience dealing with his board to know that talking outside of the questions could get him in trouble.

“All right, Mr. Wayne,” Mr. Givens finally said. “I have a few questions to ask you and then I’ll talk to the two boys.”

Some of the questions were easy, like “Why do you want to do this all at once? Wouldn’t trying to foster one boy be enough?”

“All four boys have formed a tight bond from their experiences,” Bruce replied. “Dick and Jason especially, since they’ve been living together for two years. Separating them just seemed cruel, and I certainly have the space and means.”

Some of the questions were hard. “Do you understand what you’re going to be asked to give up by taking these boys in?”

“My time, money, and energy, I suppose,” Bruce answered after a moment. “But I think I understand that, really, everything will change. They’ll need a lot of help, even emotionally, and I certainly don’t have the experience for that. But I have a family doctor who has known me since I was a child, and I know enough to get them professional help when they need it. I’ve already started thinking about that.”

“So, you admit you don’t have the experience. Just because you have money to throw at these boys doesn’t mean you can do this.”

Bruce’s breath stilled. He clasped his hands in his lap and lifted his head. “Mr. Given, I don’t know of anyone who knows if they can parent. How could you? I do know, though, that if I can’t do this, I’ll find someone who can, who the boys will trust. Right now, I know that if you take them and put them in another home, they’ll be back on the Gotham streets before you can close your briefcase. They trust me because I’m Damian’s father, and I’m going to earn their trust as time goes on. That’s all I can do, aside from providing them their needs.”

Mr. Given held Bruce’s gaze and nodded. “All right. Now, about schooling.”

They talked for a while, and all Bruce knew to do was be candid, answering what he could, admitting when he couldn’t, and finally Mr. Given asked to see the boys. They were waiting in the kitchen, so Bruce took Mr. Given to them and left them all at the kitchen table to return to the sitting room and wait. Dick had glanced at Bruce with a smile as he left, and earlier that day he’d poked his head into Bruce’s office to say, “I’m sure everything will be fine, Bruce,” as if he wasn’t the one in danger of getting shipped off to a possibly corrupt stranger’s house.

Now, Bruce waited. Alfred came in and sat next to him on the chesterfield, and he put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder with a squeeze. “I’m sure it will work out, Master Bruce,” he said quietly.

Bruce nodded. “As long as they’re honest, that’s all that matters.”

They were honest, Mr. Given looked around their living spaces, and he shook Bruce’s hand. “I think the boys are happy and safe here, Mr. Wayne. Let’s get this paperwork signed, and then I’ll have it processed and sent back to you for your records. I also have this,” he said as he handed Bruce a folder, “List of resources and common questions foster parents might have. My card is in there, and I gave a card to both boys as well.”

Alfred showed him out, and Bruce had every intention of going to find the boys, but seemed to be stuck to the couch. Alfred took one look at him and left the room. Being scolded by Alfred was something Bruce was used to, but he didn’t usually just walk away. Bruce closed his eyes and suddenly all four boys tumbled into the room, Damian leading the way.

“Father! Alfred said you signed the papers! Jason and Dick get to stay!” he said, holding Dick’s hand and tugging a bit.

Bruce smiled and wiped his hand down his face. “Yes. The placement will be official as soon as we get the paperwork back.”

“So, we all get to stay,” Damian said. “I told you we would, Jason.”

Jason, who was still standing practically in the doorway, shrugged and nodded. “Okay, Dami.”

Tim, his dark hair falling in his eyes, dropped his head to stare at the floor. “I’m not official.”

Bruce went and knelt down in front of Tim. He reached up and brushed the hair from Tim’s eyes. “Actually, I got a call from my lawyer earlier today. It sounds like he was able to get your parents to sign temporary custodianship over to me. It is temporary, but it means that they’ll have to go through a judge to have you removed from my care. It’s basically like fostering.”

He raised his head to meet Bruce’s gaze and his eyes were watery, but no tears fell. He blinked them away. “Really?” he asked. “They signed it?”

Bruce swallowed. Yeah, Tim was definitely going to need some therapy. “Yes,” he said. “And I’m so glad you get to stay here. I have a friend who’s really, really good with computers, and I’m sure she’d love to help you learn more.”

The tears in Tim’s eyes finally fell, and he wiped them with the heel of his hand. “Um, can I,” he started, and then he stopped and stared back at the ground.

“Timmy?” Dick said, and he came and wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulders.

Tim sucked in a shaky breath and still didn’t look up. “Can I get my computer or anything from my house?”

There was more than one way to lose your parents. Bruce and Dick lost theirs in an instant, a gunshot and the snap of a rope. Tim, though, lost his slowly, like a part of him was slowly severed with a dull blade, time and trips his parents took sawing away at Tim’s heart until he ran, bleeding and torn, to the Gotham streets. Bruce hoped Tim’s wounds wouldn’t keep getting reopened and reopened, with the Drakes living so close by. He said, “I’m not sure, Tim,” because he really wasn’t. “But if we can’t, you can tell me what kind of setup you had at home and I’ll try and replicate it for you, okay?”

Tim nodded and leaned against Dick. “Okay,” he said softly.

Alfred got Bruce’s attention. “Perhaps we should retire to the kitchen and try the chocolate cake that I made earlier today.”

Dick hugged Tim close and whispered something in his ear, and Damian and Jason both followed Alfred down the hallway. Tim let Dick scoop him onto his shoulders and he laughed as they ducked through the doorway. Bruce followed them all, and everyone had a slice of cake and a glass of milk in a quiet sort of celebration.

It was typical of this week that as Bruce put the last bite of cake in his mouth, his phone rang again. The cake turned to ash in his mouth as he stood and moved quickly into the hallway, out of earshot, before he managed to open the call and say, “Talia.”


End file.
